Happy Birthday
by LunaMarr
Summary: She had it all, everything a little girl could dream of. A wonderful mother, a loving dad. Or at least she did, untill HE took it all away as she watched the world burn.


For those of you who played the first Fable, or the TLC, do you remember the very beginning were you go around Oakvale and do those 'mini quests' to buy a box of chocolates for you sister Theresa? I thought I would write a little snippet about Theresa and Little Sparrow having to do with their that and whatnot. Bear with me, I had a moment of inspiration and typed this all up in one night so there are probably some mistakes I missed.

Edit: Fixed some mistakes I found.

I don't own Fable any more now than I did yesterday. But my birthday is coming up…*nod nod* Lionhead

Love, Your Super Best Friend,

Chesty.

~O~

"Hello Little Brother, I hope you haven't forgotten what day it is, Like you did last year!" giggled a much younger Theresa. The boy chuckled sheepishly, a hand straying to scratch the back of his head.

"I-I'm sorry if I woke you up last night…It was another one of those dreams." Theresa continued, her voice dropping slightly. Her brother, always at a loss for words quickly shook his head, eyes widening with concern.

"I was standing in this field when something happened, but I can't remember what…Never mind that though, I'm still waiting for my present!" she giggled, her eyes taking in her brothers red face. He reached behind him, retrieving a red velveteen box from the sash tied around his trousers. He smiled proudly; pushing it into his sister's waiting hands.

"I knew you were going to bring me chocolates! It's just like my dream!" she said excitedly. "Come one, let's go home. Mother will be back for my party any minute now!" she chirped, taking her brothers hand and cradling the box under her arm. He grasped it, pleased he had made her happy and the two walked to the main gate, cheerful to go home. Theresa stopped midway to the gate her hand slipping from her brothers as he continued on.

"Wait…Something's wrong…" her brother, by now already to the little cobblestone road turned, confusion illuminating his features.

"BANDITS!" the scream broke through the calm of Oakvale's fields, and both brother and sister turned to the stone gate way that marked the entrance to the town. A man came running thought the gate, perspiration coating his face as pure panic flashed in his eyes. He panted, just feet from her brother before a soft _twang_ stopped his midstride. His eyes rolled back into his head, an arrow embedded into his back as his body fell to the stone road. Theresa was the first to react.

"It's really happening…they're here! You've got to hide!" Theresa cried, firmly reaching over the gate and yanking her brother over. He fell into the thick vinery; quickly righting himself to peer wide eyed though the slates in the wooden gate. War cries suddenly filled the air as men suddenly poured into the town, blades raised high, and eyes alight. The bandit responsible for the arrow now embedded in the now dead man strutted in, pausing with pride to look at the body. Kicking the man in him ribs he smiled gloatingly;

"Got one!" he laughed brutally, and proceeded to fire an onslaught of arrows onto the innocent townspeople. The boy's eyes widened, afraid and young as he watched all he knew be stripped away from him. He turned to his sister, tears stinging his eyes, only to find she had disappeared. His eyes grew wider, fear now replacing shock.

_NO._

~O~

_If I run fast enough, maybe I can warn them…save them before he…_

These were the words that repeated in Theresa's head as she sprinted away from her brother through the dirt fields in the direction of home. The chocolates hastily pushed into her skirts layer and forgotten beat against her leg in sync with her heart as she ran. The crackling grew louder the closer she grew to the village, as did the screams. Women and children, screaming as their husbands and fathers were cut done before them in an effort to protect their families, houses burning as smoke filled the pure air. She slid down the muddy hill that stood before her home, falling to all fours in her haste to run down it.

_Please…Please_

She begged silently, sprinting all the way into her house.

"Mama! Papa, we have to-!"

She froze, first her eyes flickered to her mother, on her knees with a blade at her throat, a bandit gripping her by the hair; and then her father, lying on the ground with a bandit's boot pressed firmly against his head, his teeth gritted in anger. Both were bound. Then her eyes slowly slid to the man in the center of the room, clothed completely in red with a similar blade in his right hand. He turned, and though a mask covered his face, Theresa had the feeling he was smiling at her.

"Hello, birthday girl."

~O~

Theresa screamed as the red blade sliced her mother's arm, the blade lapping up the blood as it was absorbed into the deadly metal. Her mother gritted her teeth as tears of pain and anger escaped from her tightly shut eyelids. Her father struggled, cries of protest and rage growling from the man's throat. Never could Theresa ever remember seeing him so enraged, he was a gentle man, anger was not in his nature. The man in red turned to her, and Theresa knew he was grinning wickedly.

"Tell me, little one, _where is your brother_?" He purred, a hand gripping her jaw and forcing her to look at him. Theresa remained silent, blue eyes burning into the mans red ones. For a moment, the eyes flashed in pure hatred, but he quickly regained his composure. Instead, he chuckled, a cold, lifeless laugh that seemed to still time.

"Stubborn…just like her mother. Hehe…I wonder, can you continue your vow of silence when in _blinding_ pain?" he purred wickedly, the flat side of a curved dagger rising to rest on her cheek. She gulped, and continued her stony visage, on the inside her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest.

"NO! DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!" her father screamed, writhing against the rope that bound his arms. With a swift kick to the head from the bandit, her father fell silent, slumping against the floor. Her mother gasped aloud, visually recoiling from the blow, she turned to her, blues eyes piercing her daughters.

_Stay Strong._

Her mother's eyes, that pale yet strong blue, would be the last thing Theresa saw with her eyes.

The curved dagger left her cheek suddenly, and before Theresa could turn her eyes to the man, something sharp and hot sliced across her eyes, turning her vision red and black.

"GAAAAHHH!" she screamed, louder than she had ever screamed in her life, clutching her hands to her ruined eyes as if this would cease the searing pain she now felt. She rolled on the floor screaming in agony. Though the pain she could barely make out what the men were saying.

"Cut the man loose, and take that one into the woods and leave her for dead. As for the women, she will be accompanying me. Go." She felt the rough leather of the bandit's glove gripping her arm as she was dragged outside. Then through the blackness of blindness, Theresa could _see_. She heard a howl of pain from behind her, and she turned, odd swirling lines forming the scene taking place before her. Her father ran out of the home, his face contorted with rage, brandishing a bloody axe. The axe she had only ever seen him use whilst cutting wood. He raised the blade above his head, and brought it down, sinking it into the muscle and sinew of the surprised bandit. Yanking free of the corpse, he turned faster than the others could react and wedged it into the bandit closest to her. He pulled it lose, and with a cry of vengeance he ran for the man in red. Jack of Blades. He turned lazily, and without a noise produced his blade from seemingly nowhere, and shoved it through the axeman's chest.

"NOOOOOO! BROM! NOOOO! I'LL KILL YOU!" her mother's screams suddenly filling the silence. Her father slid off of the sword, his axe slipping from his fingers. He was dead before he hit the ground. Theresa felt her heart stutter, almost stopping completely.

_Daddy._

Theresa pulled herself from her memories, a hand straying to the cheek where the cold dagger had rested. Several hundred years had healed her eyes, through a white milky film now covered them completely. Yet even with this blindness, she saw perfectly, better in fact, than any living person _with_ their eyes. She could see through**will**, with it she could see the people of this world, both future and present amongst other things. She walked away from the little bridge she stood on now, her feet making no sound against the saplings. She walked seamlessly though the Gypsy camp, few taking notice of her. Turning down the slope she paused, just before a rambunctious child fell across the path. He scrambled up, covered in dirt and his hair falling into his eyes. He stumbled eagerly, and hesitated, a nervous smile flitting across his face when he looked up. She smiled softly, and if anyone else had been looking they would say she looked almost motherly. She held out a slender hand, and with a shy grin he grasped it, walking with her to their shared caravan.

"I haven't seen much of you today. I do hope you practiced your marksmanship."

He smiled again, his mouth clamped firmly shut. They passed a warm fire, several gypsies gathered around drinking and laughing warmly. Night had fallen, and crickets chirped in the moonlight woods, kissing the air with their song. Upon reaching the caravan the two climbed in, and Theresa closed the bottom half of the door, leaving open the top so the moonlight shined in. Little Sparrow hopped onto his hammock, tracing a small sparrow he had carved into the wood before plopping down on his stomach. His finger fumbled with a single braid that fell from his hair, a hairstyle that the gypsies and the long gone people of Oakvale found popular. He looked up at her, watching her as she filled the washbasin with cool water, and dipped a worn rag into the liquid. She sat on the edge of his hammock, and he sat up and crossed his legs, and she proceeded to clean his face as she had to do every night, wiping away the dirt that marred his tender skin.

"A merchant came to the camp today." She raised an eyebrow to show she was listening, and he continued his voice stronger. "He was selling all sorts of things…" she waited and his eyes rested on the sparrow that was engraved into the ornate wood. She finished cleaning his face and began wiping his arms and hands, silently tutting at the dirt that stuck under the white of his fingernails. She finished, and rinsed the cloth in the basin before ringing it out.

"I got you something." She felt a pang of surprise, but hid it well and instead turned to him wearily. He nodded in a silent approval and reached under his pillow and retrieved a soft velvet bow, a green bow childishly tied around it. He smiled and hopping off his hammock with a soft _thud_ against the wood he came to her eagerly, his gift outstretched. She let him place it into her hands, and she ran her fingers over it, her eyes watering for the first time in several hundred years. He saw this, and his voice rose in fear and alarm.

"I-I'm sorry! I did not know it would make you sad!" he exclaimed, concern filling his voice. "I will take it back!" his tiny hands reached out to take back the present but she stopped him.

"No…You just remind me of someone I used to know…a **long **time ago." She let a tear slide from her eye, and she knelt and kissed him gently on the crown of his head. "Thank you Little Sparrow. You have made me very happy." He smiled, pleased, and went to his hammock, settling down into the stretched material and closing his eyes.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She whispered, and she waited until his breathing slowed before setting the box down. Silently her hand snaked up to a hidden drawer on the top shelf and retrieved a similar, through much more worn velveteen box. She indulged herself and rested her hand against the soft fabric, the same tag from over 300 years ago still tied to the bow adorned the upper lid. Hesitantly, she fingered the fabric within, fond memories flittering into her mind. A red robe, stained by the blood of Balverines or so they say, and later on stained by the blood of the wearer. Still in perfect condition. Her two greatest artifacts, and yet they meant to much to her to allow either of them to leave her possession. The robe, enchanted as it was, would regenerate to its original shape, no matter how much was torn off. Any tailor would pay thousands for the treasure, a source of immeasurable scarlet cloth. And the box, a gift from her long departed brother. Her thoughts returned to Little Sparrow, and the second tear that night slipped from her scarred eyes. She knew his story already, she had seen him slay the tyrant Lucien, his anointing to be king, the years of prosperity that would follow for Albion, the births of his two children and then…his death. She wanted to give him a gift, but only one thing came to her mind. Her fingers clutched the fabric to her chest for a moment before lowering them to the box. The robe was no gift for a boy though, she frowned. No it was far too feminine…her thoughts wandered to the daughter he would have and she smiled in spite of herself. Yes. It was something her brother would have done and lovingly she returned the lid of the box to its rightful place and returned the box to the hidden shelf. It would be her gift to him, her little sparrow, and to the daughter he would have, a robe of red, marked with the blood of their ancestors. She reached to the box of chocolates Little Sparrow had given her and plucking one from the midst, placed it on her tongue and let it melt. Her gift. To him.

"Goodnight, little brother."


End file.
